


The Savior and the Danger

by fear_has_found_us



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fear_has_found_us/pseuds/fear_has_found_us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing Belle alive strikes Rumpelstiltskin right in the heart, but he's still too much of a coward to even pretend to give up power for her - yet. He sets the wraith on Regina in anger and revenge, and only Emma seems capable of saving Regina from her terrible fate. Meanwhile Belle faces her own threats, and must rise to the occasion, to become as heroic as she's always hoped she could be. Though not one of them is sure they trust any of the others, Rumple, Belle, Regina and Emma reluctantly align their agendas, and embark on a quest together into the most dangerous land of them all - the Land Without Magic.</p><p>Canon-divergent AU starting from S2, with slow-burning Rumbelle and Swanqueen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Memory Container

Gold pocketed the thing that had always been a part of his plan; that heinously colored liquid in its twee glass vial - True Love, distilled. A magic so powerful and rare that he had run around the Enchanted Forest like a manic matchmaker for years just to create his own supply. As always, the best laid plans took the longest time to pay off. 

He was heading out to put the liquid to the use it had been born for, when a pesky customer came in asking for him, and when he hurriedly turned around to shoo them away, it seemed - somehow - impossibly - to be Belle. 

She was not a part of the plan. She never had been. 

Until just a few weeks ago, Belle hadn't crossed Gold’s mind for the better part of twenty-eight years. Twenty-nine or thirty, if you counted the time before the curse. But he couldn't count that really. He had thought about her then, in his weaker moments, before all the gears he had so carefully assembled began turning, before he became sure he would succeed. After the curse it became much easier. He employed all his wits and schemes to torment the town, but that he could have done while half asleep - the deeper parts of his mind, more susceptible to trouble and regret, were peacefully blank. No Belle, and very little Baelfire - no one. He assumed that all sentiments involving them were still safe within his far less conscious heart, whatever part of that was not yet blackened and useless. But just in case, he had Baelfire's clothes to store his memory, and Belle’s silly little chipped cup. 

And then the cup went missing, which was unacceptable. It shouldn't have mattered; keeping the chipped cup safe would never make up for letting Belle die. But for him it served a very particular function, like a seal over that specific vault of guilt. Whenever he did feel a wee bit guilty, or worse, when he remembered those feelings she had accused of being love, he ran his fingers over the smooth China like serving penance, and forgot.

When he saw that the cup had been among those items stolen from his home, his delightful calm of twenty-eight years fried to a crisp. Why? Did it remind him he was not in control of his sins, his past, or his memories, during this time when control was an absolute necessity? Or did it remind that his slightest weaknesses, trifling and symbolic as they might be, could always be exploited? In that way it was a valuable lesson. He could never be too guarded. There was no such thing as too strong a show of force, even to protect even his smallest trinkets. The world was full of enemies.

The main one, of course, being Regina. She had been the culprit in the case of the missing cup, which should have been obvious. It had been no random theft by a distressed Storybrooke debtor, but a calculated move, by someone who somehow knew. Regina, it turned out, was more observant than he gave her credit for, which was hardly a pleasant thought. He'd never assumed Belle, let alone her cup, had made much of an impression on her. But oh how she had loved lording it over him. That malicious grin, which he usually found so juvenile and harmless, had made him want to wring her blasted neck. 

In the end, all she had wanted was his name: his real name. He spoke it, and in doing so confessed that he remembered what came before the curse, and that he had always remembered, and that he had always planned to remember. Fine. He had been teasing her with that knowledge for years. It was frankly disappointing that it had taken her that long to get it out of him, and with The Savior in town she would have found out sooner or later. She handed the cup back to him, and he felt his calm return. For now he had back the little thing he wanted, and he snarled a warning to her: if she thought this gave her any kind of of upper hand, she was sadly mistaken. When the stakes grew higher, he would most certainly not let himself be toyed with. 

Right at this second the stakes were the highest they had been in - how long? Centuries. And he was threatening to tear in two. Belle was standing in his shop - alive.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Gold?” She asked. 

She looked bedraggled and lost, like a perfect ghost, with mussed hair and pale, sickly skin. But she didn’t look supernatural. Her eyes, ever searching, ever intelligent, took in all the details of the room. She idly ran her fingers on the counter, and he could sense their weight. She felt so present, right in front of him. 

“You’re alive,” he said. Like an idiot. 

Belle looked down at herself to verify. “Uh, yep, looks like it.”

He wanted to laugh at her, and he wanted to cry. How was this happening?

“So, _are_ you Mr. Gold? I was told to come find Mr. Gold.”

“Yes, yes, I’m he.” So she didn’t remember. Of course she didn’t. That is, not yet. But any moment now…“And who are you, my dear?” He kept his voice as steady as possible. 

“I...I’m not totally sure. I know that sounds crazy.” She looked down, mildly embarrassed, which was adorable. She had no idea what crazy was. “I’ve been in the hospital...for a while. I can’t really remember before that. I was told to tell you, ‘Regina locked me up.’ Does that mean anything to you?” 

Oh, did it ever. It meant Regina was dead. Fifty individual ways to murder her came into his head at once. As soon as he could get his hands on magic...

Yes. Focus. He needed to get to that well. There was a narrow window of time to do what needed to be done. And not just to crush Regina, though that would certainly be enjoyable. Everything depended on these next few minutes. Full concentration was required.

Which was hard, with a good half of his brain dumbstruck at Belle’s existence, and then another significant portion occupied with wondering what she would do when she regained her memories. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms. He wasn’t sure what he would say, what he wanted her to think. He hadn’t had time to strategize for this. But the idea of waiting a second longer than necessary to see her again, to see her fully herself again - the suspense of that would be torture. At the moment when she remembered, he would have to be with her.

Was he _sure_ she was real? He was tempted to reach out and grasp her, to see if she would dissolve. 

But he didn’t. 

“The person - the boy - who let me go, he said that you would protect me? Protect me from what?”

Henry? Had he read about Belle in that damn book? The idea of that little boy meddling in his affairs made his blood boil slightly. But he couldn’t exactly blame the lad for freeing Belle from Regina’s clutches. 

“From something...very bad. But you don’t need to worry about that now. Right now, you just need to come with me.”

Belle nodded, totally trusting, and followed him out of the shop as he headed towards the woods. How long would that trust last, once she remembered who he was? If she remembered. If Emma did what she needed to do to break the curse - otherwise those memories were lost forever. He had always trusted the prophecy - The Savior was destined to break the Dark Curse, with or without his help. Still, maybe he should have left her a little bit of this potion, in case she wasn’t the kissing type. He had never felt so invested in the question before. He could carry out his plan regardless - he would get his magic back. But this Belle situation...was another matter entirely.

* * *

He couldn’t bring himself to look back at her, even as his pace grew faster and he heard her struggling to keep up. If he looked back once he would look back every second, trying to catch the moment when she realized, when she recognized him. What would she do, what would she say, what would she do...Don’t think about it. Look forward, don’t look back.

Up ahead he could see the well, the one piece of magic he had managed to build into this world - with the water that could “restore what one had lost.” He couldn’t lose sight of that. He longed to feel the magic coursing through his veins again. He longed to look behind him. 

The two of them reached the well, and without thinking he withdrew the vial, eager to get things over with.

Belle stared at the swirling liquid with wide eyes. 

“What...what is that?” She didn’t remember magic, couldn't name it, but she could tell that this strange substance did not belong in this world. “Should you...have that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, a little more harshly than he’d intended, and quickly tossed True Love down the well.

“What are you doing?”

He had to ignore her, just for a minute. This needed to be done now. When the spell broke, Regina was sure to come after him, with whatever she had left. He would need to be ready with magic of his own. 

And when Belle got her memories back, and, possibly, hated him, he would want magic inside him. To strengthen him. To remind him what was most important. 

A rich purple smoke began rising in a spiral from the depths of the well. He could feel the energy radiating from it. He remembered that vibration. Before it had buzzed inside him like a second pulse. He breathed in deeply, purple wisps wafting up his nostrils towards his brain.  
The more magic he took in, the more alive his body felt. More grounded, more secure, more solid, and yet sprier, lighter. His fingers tingled with their renewed ability to extend force through waves of magic. How had he coped for 28 years - even frozen-in-time years - of being unable to reach beyond his measly human frame? 

The smoke kept coming and coming. All the magic he’d possessed, back in his other life. Had there really been so much of it? No matter. If extra made it over he would take that too. There was no reason to let a drop go to waste, and no reason anyone else should have it. He could have all the magic to himself, if he could just drink it in as quickly as it was coming...and there was certainly no reason to stop, when it felt so rejuvenating. He opened his mouth wide, scooped the magic in…

If he had glanced at Belle, he would have seen her staring in horror at this spectacle. A strange man sucking purple vapor from a hole in the ground is not exactly the first sight a girl dreams of seeing after untold time in captivity. But, briefly, the intoxicating flow of magic made him forget her. It was only when he looked up at the sound of twigs snapping underfoot that he realized she had left his side. 

Gone. She had been there, with him, real, for this tiny sliver of time, and now she was gone, again. He had scared her off. Was she still near? She couldn’t have gotten far...He scanned the trees frantically, but saw no sign.

“Belle!” He cried out, before remembering that the name meant nothing to her. _You’re missing your chance, dearie. Any moment now she’ll know exactly who you are. And you’ll_ miss _it_. He had to go after her.

But...the magic. It was still coming in seductive waves. Had he taken in enough of it? And more importantly, what would happen if it reached the others? He didn’t need magical rivals in this land. He wanted - needed - all of it. For this next stage of the plan, he needed all the power he could get. It was coming fast now. The smoke was thick, almost choking him. He might have to let some of it go. But if he could just drink a little longer…

Which memory would back come to Belle first, he wondered in the background, through the cloud of purple. When he, the most wicked sorcerer in all the land, had instinctively caught her as she fell from that ladder, then stared down at her, wondering why he had just done that? When she’d been so very concerned about chipping the cup, like she’d done him some injury? Or maybe when he’d sneered at her, “It’s simple, dearie: My power. Means more to me. Than you.”

As if to reinforce the point, a particularly strong billow of smoke rushed up through the well and into him, making his pulse points tingle. The glow of magic began to push outward from within him. A tiny bit more, and a cloak of magic might hover over him always, like a suit of armor...power was definitely very nice.

 _No, that’s not it_ , said the voice of Belle, which had been lying in wait, all these years, in his head. _You’re a coward. No matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn’t change_. 

That might be the moment she remembered first. When she had held her head high, and called him a coward, and left.

Damn it. 

He tore himself from the well, with great difficulty. 

“Belle?” He shouted. “Belle? Belle!”

He ran, sure that he was much too late to catch her now. The smoke only increased, washing the over forest, gathering speed like a flood of water, rushing towards town. This was clearly more magic than he had ever possessed. It was soon impossible to see between the trees, and then there was nothing but a sea of magic. With his newfound strength he tried to shove the purple clouds aside, but battling pure magic was a tricky task, and there was much too much, moving much too fast...

Everything was slipping through his fingers now. Magic was flying right into Regina’s waiting hands, and Belle...she was so close, but he couldn’t get to her. All he could think to do was call her name.

“Belle! Belle! Belle!”

Over and over, and nothing breaking the silence but the rush of magic past his ears, growing louder.

“Belle! I’m here! Can you hear me?”

Finally, faintly, he thought he heard her voice, though he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining it. As quiet as it was, it was sweet to hear her say his name.

“Rumpelstiltskin?”


	2. The Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked and left kudos! I know nothing about you, but I think it's natural to assume you're some of the nicest, smartest, best-looking people on the internet, and with some of the best taste of course. *cheesy winking face*
> 
> As I think you've gathered, many things in this AU are different from the canon Once universe we all know, love, and try fruitlessly to make any actual sense out of. If you're totally confused, not sure what's the same or what's different, etc., feel free to ask me, and I'll try to shoehorn in some exposition to explain it, or just answer you directly.
> 
> And now, your chapter:

“Henry, no matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I _do_ love you.”

 _I love you, Henry. I love you, I love you. Please believe me._ Maybe, if she repeated the words over and over to herself, they would echo in his head. 

Oh, what was the point? She probably shouldn’t even let herself think about Henry. He had his proof now; proof that that stupid book of his was gospel. From now on he would only see her as “The Evil Queen,” defeated by the “hero,” Emma Swan. Did he really _want_ to see the world in such two-dimensional terms? Hadn’t his school’s curriculum assigned any more nuanced literature?

But she was “The Evil Queen.” Or she had been. She’d worn the mantle with pride. She might have even coined the term, she couldn’t quite recall. Over the years, however, she’d grown comfortable with being plain Regina Mills, the only mildly-crooked mayor of the most uneventful town in Maine. True, she’d enjoyed her petty powers. Issuing undeserved parking tickets, a little bit of good old-fashioned bribery (more to create a fun ambience of corruption than to get her way, because in this world she always got her way eventually). Watching Snow’s romance-novel brand of angst, as she gazed longingly out of windows, sensing that her true love was, “Out there, somewhere, but where?” - that had been entertaining too. But was any of that really evil?

She _had_ kept that Belle girl locked in a basement. That might qualify. Also framing Snow for murder. But that was entirely deserved.

The point was, she had ceased to _think_ of herself as evil. She didn’t want the moniker anymore. All she’d ever wanted was a dominion to call her own, no matter how small and unglamorous. Was that really so much to ask for?

She snapped; threw her alarm clock across the room, where it pointlessly smashed. Then she held her head in her hands, and cried like a heartbroken teenaged girl. She _hated_ them, all of them, with their fated, ribbon-tied happy endings, and stupid, smiling faces. The way they’d all reacted when that jolt of True Love struck them, radiating from Emma’s lips - like recognizing something that was meant for them... 

Entitled brats. At least it felt good to hate them.

She wished, with all her might, that she could hate Emma Swan.

But how could she hate someone who loved Henry? Loved him so much that it had created a wave through space, and changed everyone’s reality. While Regina had to beg Henry to remember her love, Emma’s love provided physical evidence. 

And because of Emma’s love, Henry was alive.

Regina’s former hate for Emma had missed its mark - it had almost destroyed the only person whose death she would never have been able to bear. With a single action, taken unconsciously in the heat of grief, Emma had melted Regina’s carefully-assembled version of of the world, and destroyed her life. She had also saved her. 

So she couldn’t hate Emma. But she could hate everyone else.

And it seemed they were more than capable of hating her.

There they were now, pounding down her door, like the comically predictable torch-and-pitchfork mob they were. Well, let them come. If they thought she’d lie down for them they had another thing coming. She may not have had her magic, but if she didn’t have Henry, then all she did have left in this world was her Evil Queen persona. And if they wanted her to dust it off and wear it, she was going to commit. 

“Get out here Regina! Don’t make us come in ourselves!” Shouted Obnoxiousy, or whatever that Dwarf’s name was, “We’ll tear down the door if we have to!”

If she’d said she wasn’t afraid, that would have been a lie. The rabble wanted her dead. The kind of dead that became dead through particularly violent means, by the looks of things. They were certainly generous and kind, these good and noble citizens. But they weren’t going to see her crack, not for a second. Her mouth bloomed into a beaming smile, as she swung the door open wide.

“Hello everyone! How can I help you?” 

The dwarf took an emphatic step forward.

“You can _suffer_.”

“Ha!” Regina took great pleasure in stepping right towards him, flipping back her suit jacket the way she had once flipped her long, dramatic capes out of the way before doing something dreadful. It was always an impressive gesture, and she saw the crowd shrink back. “Aside from annoying me, there’s no way you pitiful peasants could ever hurt me.” She flashed another winning grin. “But I would sure like to see you try.” 

A whisper of speculation spread through the crowd - something to the effect of “She must have her powers again!” Then a ripple of doubt - could there really be magic in this land?

The dwarf looked cowed for a good moment, and then straightened up again.

“I think you’re bluffing.”

“But are you really sure you want to find out?” Regina drew clawed hands back, as if preparing to shoot the deadliest magic from her palms. 

But it was true, she was only bluffing. And that couldn’t last long.

She hoped, prayed, that somehow her magic _had_ returned. She imagined a fire ball big enough to swallow the whole crowd, to rid her of them forever. She closed her eyes, and gave it her best shot.

And….nothing.

“She’s powerless! Get her! Do it now!”

They moved in and surrounded her. Animals. Regina tried to steel herself, to close her mind to the fear, as she felt hands close around her neck...

“Stop!”

And then, breaking through the crowd - who else? 

Emma Swan, of course. Savior once, Savior forever after. 

“Stop! Get away from her!” Emma threw Regina’s attackers aside with a fervor that could have been mistaken for concern, by someone who didn’t know better. Regina would probably always consider Emma her enemy, possibly her worst enemy, but she had to admire the way she fought for the people she loved. And right now she was fighting for _Henry_ , saving Regina for his sake, again. 

“Stand down! We are not murderers here!” That was Snow, following closely behind her daughter, speaking, as she always had, as the Elevated Voice of Goodness and Justice. Regina had not missed her one bit. 

“She cursed us!” the dwarf needlessly shouted.

“That doesn’t make it right to kill her!” And there was Charming. The goody-two-shoes-duo was united again. “I may not be a Prince in this land, but _will_ stand up for law and order in this town!”

Emma stepped between Regina and the crowd. Rather than addressing the mob she turned to Regina.

“You okay?” she asked quietly. 

Regina glared, but nodded. 

“She deserves to be punished for what she did to us!” 

“And she will be!” Snow stood before the crowd in full orator mode, commanding everyone’s attention. “But killing her won’t provide us any answers! The curse is broken - so why are we still here in Storybrooke, and not back home? Regina may be the only one who can get us back there!”

Regina smirked. Snow tended to lead with the whole Universal Moral Code thing, but she was a realist underneath it all. She knew she’d never tame this mob unless she could show them there was something in it for them. 

“She needs to be locked up,” Snow continued, “For her sake, but _more importantly_ for ours.” Yes indeed, Snow certainly had her priorities straight. 

“For now, why don’t you all go on home,” Charming suggested, and because they were all sheep, the effect was immediate. As the crowd begrudgingly dispersed, Regina heard someone call in a soft but determined voice, “Long live Snow White!” She rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile Emma - Sheriff Swan, as she still seemed determined to be, even given these vastly altered circumstances - unclipped her handcuffs from her belt. She looked almost apologetic, her eyebrows creasing in that anxious way, as she fastened them onto Regina’s waiting wrists. 

“Well - Your Majesty - I guess you’re under arrest.”

* * *

Regina lay on the little cot in her jail cell, and stopped existing for a bit. What they were planning to do to her, what she would plan to do them first - all that could wait, for just a little while. She held her hands together on her chest, and imagined none of this was real. 

She closed her eyes, and pretended it was yesterday. No, before Emma came to town. No, no, not even then. Much earlier than that. Before she married the King. Before what happened to Daniel. Before she ever met Snow White. Yes, that was it, before Snow…

She tried to send her mind back to the time before Snow, but the first thing she thought of was her mother’s face - smiling, kindly, condescending - as it had looked when she’d bound Regina’s arms fast to her sides with magic branches to keep her right where she wanted her to be. Was there a time she could go back to before that, a time when she wouldn’t have her mother’s voice in her head, telling her she was weak, a disappointment, that she’d never figure out how to be happy…

There was no good time to go back to. That wasn’t how Regina’s life worked. 

Instead she turned to the powers of imagination. She made up a scenario of happiness that seemed at least a little bit attainable. In this vision, Henry loved her. He came to her with his fears and his dreams, listened to her advice, cuddled up to her on the couch. She was the only mother he had, and he didn’t need anyone else. Why was it that something so simple seemed like it could only be achieved through a miracle? 

Or...through magic…

Regina sat up straight in bed, focused and alert. Something suddenly seemed off. It was as though she could hear a hum that made no sound; a small, gentle vibration. Where was it coming from? One moment it seemed to originate in the top right corner of the room, the next she was convinced it was coming from inside her own head. It seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t seem to place it…

And then she saw it. It came a tiny bit at a time - through the edges of the windows, underneath the door. It came in thin wisps, but that color of purple was unmistakable. She grinned - genuinely grinned - not to put on a show for anyone, but with real heartfelt delight. It was all rushing towards her. It recognized her, like an old friend who had missed her. And she had missed it too. 

Why, exactly, had she wanted to come to a world without magic? When she’d tossed magic aside, she’d lost the one thing that had ever truly been hers. 

But that didn’t matter now. She was about to get it back.


	3. The Memory Regainer

“Belle!”

“Belle!” 

One utterance was nothing, except another reason to be baffled and afraid. The second was someone calling her name.

In a flash, she came back to herself. Before anything specific, she remembered the whole indefinite set of things that meant she was Belle. 

And then? The realization that she had been locked in an underground cell for twenty-eight years. 

She didn’t know the exact number of years, of course. But she could feel enough to guess and come close. At the time it had felt very indeterminate - she remembered feeling hours and days stretching, long periods of boredom, enough time passing to wonder if things would ever change, or if her life was confined to that compact cube of a room forever. But as far as she knew, nothing had come before. She had no reference for the outside world, nothing to compare her life to, and things always seemed to exist in a halfway-foggy state. She’d had nothing to miss or long for, and even if she had, could she have made her mind focus on anything as solid as wanting freedom?

Only now, with the return of her memory, did she start to miss the world, at almost the exact instant that she fully realized she was in it. Overwhelmed with contradicting feelings, she was struck with dizziness, and let herself stumble to the ground. At the feeling of dirt and twigs under her hands and knees, her emotions resolved into a pang of gratitude. She was free. 

“Belle! Can you hear me?”

The sound recalled her to the present. Her mind began to race. Someone was looking for her. They sounded desperate. What was happening? She remembered walking through a town, just minutes before. The image of that quiet, pretty street fought for space with other memories - every small-town street she had walked along from childhood to adulthood. She held her head and willed herself to focus. 

Why was she in the woods? Where was she exactly? And why was there so much smoke…

“Belle!”

Three thoughts jumped into her brain together - there had been a man, he had made the smoke, his voice reminded her of Rumpelstiltskin. 

“Rumpelstiltskin?”

She called out his name out before she could think.

Then a fourth - lovely, awful - thought slid in behind the rest: _Rumpelstiltskin - your True Love_.

Her heart pounded. He was here, and he was looking for her. She could hear emotion in his voice. Without knowing why either of them were there, what had happened since they’d seen each other last, or any basic facts about her predicament, that voice calling her name was enough to thrill her, and terrify her. 

She wanted to see him. That was her first instinct. Curiosity compelled her to walk up the hill, towards the voice, into the smoke. If he was that man...he had looked human. His voice was familiar, but different. Was he still…

Of course he must be. She shouldn’t get her hopes up about that. The curse of the Dark One could only end with death. Or love. But not in his case, as he’d already shown. 

No, he was surely still the Dark One. Why else would he have been drinking up something magical so ravenously just now? Yes, now she remembered that - she pulled the recent memory from the tangle of formerly lost ones. He’d cast some sort of spell, and alarmed her with his strange behavior, without caring. She hadn’t known what was happening, but he’d made her feel uneasy enough to run away. 

Did remembering - that he was Rumpelstiltskin, that she was Belle, that for half an evening she had believed that he could love her - make her any less uneasy?

He had drawn away when she had kissed him. Backed across the room to get away from her. Shoved her violently away when she tried to come near, guarding his precious power from the horrible threat of her. 

She had called him a coward, but she wasn’t really a hero, despite her dreams. She was a human girl, fully capable of feeling fear. And fear had never struck her heart so hard as when he’d thrown her away from him. She’d always learned, “No magic is stronger than true love.” She now knew that was wrong.

The man she had seen just now - using magic, lapping it up - what exactly would he do if she dared to threaten him again, with her hopeful, naive love? 

She didn’t want to present herself for rejection. Not just now. She’d been through enough.

Not without hesitation, she turned and walked down the hill, away from the voice still calling out for her. She considered changing her mind, over and over, until she could no longer hear the sound. 

A roar of purple wind drowned out any other noise. 

She didn’t like this rushing, purple...whatever this was. It was something magical, that was clear enough, but she couldn’t imagine what it was for. Especially if they were where she vaguely thought (and secretly, delightedly hoped) they might be. She reminded herself that she was walking around like a blind person, with no context for her situation, but Rumple - the Dark One - summoning a seemingly infinite quantity of some magical substance from the ground - it didn’t exactly bode well. 

And the substance itself was off-putting. It strangely seemed to buzz, like millions of the tiniest imaginable bees. It made her anxious. And it was so thick…

She noticed that it was picking up in speed, like it was being propelled by a storm. Without a real reason aside from her own misgivings, she began to run back towards the town, trying to outrun the smoke even as it grew faster.

She ran the miles it took to return to the main street, and somehow managed, gasping and exhausted, to reach it before the smoke was thick enough to obscure everything. Just before the town was drowned in purple, she saw brief glimpses of things she hadn’t thought to notice before her memories returned, and they told her all she needed to know. 

Cars. Streetlights. Telephone wires. There might be danger here, but she couldn’t help but be a little bit excited. She was in the Land Without Magic. 

_Although_ , she thought, as buzzing purple swallowed up the view, _maybe the name isn’t so accurate anymore…_

* * *

She stumbled through the clouds, unable to even see her own hand in front of her face as it groped around for solid objects. She was hoping she could reach a building - somewhere to hide - before she was seen by Regina or anyone who worked for her. If there was one thing she had managed to gather from the circumstances of her imprisonment, it was that here in this world, much like in the one they had left, Regina was in charge. And for whatever reason, Regina seemed to prefer her locked up. She wasn’t about to spend all her time in the Land Without Magic trapped in a prison cell. Not if she could help it.

She managed to reach a surface that seemed like the side of a building, and felt her way along the wall, searching for a door. _And how do you know that this mystery building isn’t full of Regina’s henchmen?_ It would certainly be helpful to at least be able to see where she was going…

Her thoughts were interrupted then, by a blood-chilling scream. 

It sounded like someone in a horrible amount of pain - female. Automatically Belle turned from her possible hideaway, forgetting her own danger, and went towards the sounds of distress. She had always been like that; propelled by adrenaline towards those in need, compelled by instinct to offer them the help they couldn’t give themselves. At times like that she felt impervious any threat; at least, for moments at a time. 

She found herself in a patch of thinner smoke, and managed discover the source of the sound: a woman, kneeling on the ground, all but obscured by a violent swirl of magic, which appeared to be sucking in the surrounding purple faster than it was coming. Belle couldn’t see her face clearly, but could make out waves of blonde hair. Her head was thrown back, her mouth open wide, emitting that piercing scream, as the purple vortex descended down her throat. 

This was something Belle definitely could not help with. After a few moments of staring in helpless horror, she was just about ready to turn and run. But then the kneeling figure managed to cry out something intelligible through her long wail.

“Help!”

And Belle felt she had to do _something_ , though she had no idea what. The poor woman stumbled forward on her knees, and reached out to her, grasping Belle’s hands with her own. 

“Please help me!” she rasped, “There’s too much!”

Belle didn’t understand, but she nodded, and knelt, wrapping her arms around the poor soul, not exactly knowing why. The helpless woman convulsed with the vibrations running through her, and Belle could hear them echoing inside her own body. It was odd...like...multiple frequencies. Faster and slower and then faster again - clashing.

“I...can’t…”

Belle drew back fearfully for a moment to look at her face. She seemed afraid that she might die.

“No, it’s alright,” she soothed, not knowing if she lying. “You can do it, you can.” What was she even saying? She hoped she was helping, a little...

She held the woman tightly, continuing to mutter encouragements through the renewed cries of pain, until, gradually, she began to notice things...evening out. Eventually the different pulses seemed to align to the woman’s beating heart, and she ceased her screams. The last of the smoke settled into her mouth, and everything calmed. 

“Are you alright?”

The woman looked deeply shaken, but nodded. Belle rose, and offered her her hand.

“What...what was happening to you?” Belle asked.

“I don’t know…” she caught her breath. “Thank you. Whatever you just did, thank you.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything-”

“Emma!” 

As the woman rose from the ground, and the last of the purple faded away, two strangers ran down the street towards them. 

“Emma, are you alright?”

“Emma” had just reached her feet, and looked ready to assure them of her safety. The next moment her eyes had rolled back in her head, and she had slumped senselessly into Belle’s arms. 

“EMMA!” The woman - her soft, earnest face contorted with the distress of a loved one - rushed forward to cradle Emma’s head as Belle tried to lower her. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Belle replied. Her voice sympathetically echoed the anguish she heard in the other. “It was going into her, into her mouth...”

The man reached them.

“Magic,” He said grimly. 

The woman whipped her head around to look at him.

“Regina?”

“If she had magic, why would she let us lock her up?”

“If she had magic, it wouldn’t matter if we locked her up. For all we know she’s melted through those bars by now.” Her dark eyes seemed to darken further with fear. “We have to find her. If she’s on the loose...with magic…”

Something in the tone of the warning - some hint of personal pain - made Belle look more closely at the woman’s face - her dark hair, pale skin, sharp brows. Belle remembered that she had, on several occasions, seen childhood portraits of the Princess Snow White of the Enchanted Forest. And later, during her stay in the Dark Castle, she had heard from more than one visitor about the exploits of Bandit Snow, enemy of the realm, wanted by Queen Regina, dead or alive.

“I’ll check the jail,” said the man, who must, then, be Prince Charming. 

Snow nodded. “I’ll take Emma somewhere safe.” 

“The hospital? They might be able to do something.”

“Against magic? We might have more luck with moth- with the Blue Fairy.”

“First we should get her inside..” he reached for Emma’s feet, but Belle stepped between them. 

“I’ll help carry her,” she insisted. “You go find Regina, before she can hurt anyone else.” Despite Belle’s loathing of vengeful thoughts, her voice darkened on Regina’s name. It wasn’t so very hateful a sound, but Snow and Charming seemed to sense that whoever this unknown woman was, she could be counted among those Regina had hurt already. 

_But it wasn’t Regina, was it? You know who did this_. Still, there was a good chance Regina was benefiting, or was behind it all...their relationship had never entirely made sense to Belle. It was sometimes hard to know who was really pulling the strings.

_Don’t kid yourself. At the end of every tangle of string, you’ll always find Rumpelstiltskin_. 

_Don’t make assumptions_ , said the generous half of her heart. _You don’t know what’s going on. You don’t know anything_.

The sharper edge of her mind replied, _He’s done something horrible again, that True Love of yours_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the kudos and bookmark to the lovely folks who gave them. The next chapter will be all about Emma, and then we'll get into more properly into the story, probably with longer chapters? I hope I'm making this sound super exciting. 
> 
> Also, are you guys totally confused? Are you able to follow what's happening so far? Do let me know if you're lost. I like being mysterious, but also comprehensible.


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